Sanctifying Grace (Resurrection) (29 page)

Eventually
, my desire for blood was satisfied, for the moment, and it was time to move on. I needed to get as far away from here by daybreak as possible, before people started to come to and compare notes. And bites.

I remembered what Roman had said about the north in summer – too many hours of daylight – and decided to go south. I had no idea how long I would be in this reality, or how long my dream may continue (déjà vu, anyone?), but if there is one thing I had learned from my time travel
, it was to be prepared. I couldn’t just assume I would ping back to my own time, or I would wake up. And what if something had gone wrong with the resurrection process and my odd tendency to appear in the past had transported be into another era and this is where I was going to stay? I shied away from the thought, feeling the absence of Roman far too keenly.

I stole some more clothes. Men’s clothes: a kind of trouser, over-tunic
, and cloak. And shoes. I didn’t need them, but felt incomplete without them.

Suitably attired and feeling slightly less conspicuous (though a short-haired, abnormally pale woman with rather long teeth and dressed as a man could hardly be
in
conspicuous), I left the mansion and struck out towards the road.

I hadn’t gone more than a few hundred feet when a familiar scent assailed my nostrils and I stopped in my tracks, inhaling deeply. It was faint, but it was there. Roman! I could smell Roman. I wrinkled my brow, and sniffed hard. It was him, but it wasn’t. There was something really strange about his scent. The base line was
there, but that subtle aroma I had always found so irresistible had gone. I shrugged: perhaps that particular perfume only affected humans. The whole attraction thing that vampires had going on, was it only there to entice humans, to help with the hunt? Perhaps I smelt really good to people, too?

I tasted the breeze again. It was coming from the south and I guessed he must be somewhere either on, or beyond, the road I had travelled on. There
was also the unmistakable scent of humans, and then I heard them and saw them. Men. Lots of men. At least thirty. They were marching in formation, covering the ground quickly, heading for the fort.

I hunkered down to wait for them to pass. I could evade them easily, but I didn’t want to move too far away from the smell of Roman.

The thud of studded boots and the chink of metal grew louder as they approached and Roman’s scent intensified. I was astounded I could pick out his unique smell from that of the men around him. Then I realised what it signified – he was in the midst of humans. Had they captured him? Or was he in disguise, blending in with them for some purpose of his own? Confused, I tried to work out what he was playing at. These men were soldiers, marching in formation, regulated and resolute, but their speed was hampered by what they were carrying.  Not all of them were hale and hearty; one was limping badly and two more lay on litters. I recognised them – they were part of the group of five I had stumbled across in the woods. This was not good…

I watched as the soldiers stomped unerringly towards the fort, clattering loudly over the wooden bridge. A question was called from the ramparts and was answered, and the heavy gate began to slowly open, grinding and clanking as a metal mechanism was called into action.  I was paying little heed, my attention caught by a familiar voice calling out from the head of the column. Roman. Not only was he surrounded by these humans, but he appeared to be leading them.

I wished I could see his face, but all the men were helmeted and the angle was wrong.

As he led them through the gate
, I leapt to my feet and tried to catch a glimpse of him. My eyesight was incredible, but not even I could see through the backs of the men marching behind him.

The gate closed and the road was empty once more.

I ran towards the nearest turret, intent on getting inside the fort, though I would probably have to wait until the excitement inside had died down. The fort had gone from sleepy darkness to well-lit bustle in the space of a minute. I could distinctly hear raised voices; someone was shouting and I heard the words
lamia
and
succo
repeated over and over. I had no idea what they meant, but I could take an educated guess.

I was no longer legend, myth, and fairy tale. I had come to blood-sucking life and these men had the stories and fang marks to prove it. I would need to be doubly careful, and so would Roman. They obviously didn’t suspect him, but his position may well be compromised; he would find it far more difficult to feed now
that the humans were on guard.

I wondered anew why he didn’t come to me, and I used the time spent waiting to ponder that question. I came to the conclusion that now
that I was vampire, he probably couldn’t sense me in the same way he had when I was human. That unique link between us must have broken during my resurrection. I could only hope that his feelings for me were still the same…

It was a mere two hours before dawn when the garrison finally quieted enough for me to make the attempt to scale a wall. I debated whether I should leave now, find a hiding place for the day and return the following night, but I was too impatient. I needed Roman, and he must have a secure resting place: I could stay there, with him. The thought of being held in his arms, safe and loved, drove me on. I didn’t want to stop to consider whether he would be happy to see me, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he wasn’t. He couldn’t have changed that much, could he?

There was a niggling, nasty little thought in the back of my mind: what if I had been transported back to a time before he loved me? I would simply be some strange vampire who had jeopardised both mine and his safety. I pushed the thought away, unwilling to deal with it, took a deep, unnecessary breath, and ran to the west side of the fort, away from any pre-dawn lightening in the sky.

There were guards placed at regular intervals along the wall, but I picked a corner of one of the turrets, deep in shadow
, and climbed. The stone was uneven and it was simple to find enough foot and hand holds; I scurried up the wall, my cloak billowing around me. I must have looked like a giant black bat.

I reached the top and peered over. The nearest guard was twenty feet away and coming closer with every step. I ducked down below the wall, listening to his approach. When he reached the turret he stopped, turned on his heel
, and sauntered back the way he had come. His patrol was probably thirty five to forty feet. I waited for him to retreat to the turret and turn before I flowed up and over the wall, as quiet as black smoke. Just as he was drew near to the most distant point of his beat, I found a small opening in the top of the turret and slipped into it. There were stairs dropping away behind me, but I froze as he strolled past me: he might appear to be out for a night-time walk, but he was very much alert and ready.

I relaxed when he completed his turn and moved steadily away from me, and risked a quick glance at my surroundings. I had a good view from up here and could see that, like the mansion, there was a courtyard of sorts, but far less pretty. This one was purely a functional area for training soldiers. It wasn’t strictly a courtyard, either: more of an open area surrounded by neatly placed buildings. I wondered which one Roman was in.

I sniffed the air, caught a whiff of him, and whirled fluidly, taking the steps three at a time. I was reminded of a bloodhound as I tracked him using my nose alone, and the analogy wasn’t lost on me.

Weaving down alleys between the stone-built buildings, I drew ever closer, that
enticing scent as clear as any beacon. When I stopped outside a wooded door, I knew I had found him. He wasn’t alone: I detected a heartbeat in the space beyond, and was momentarily thrown. I listened for a full minute before I was satisfied that the human was asleep.

The door wasn’t locked and opened easily to my touch. I slipped into the room. And stopped in confusion.

It was definitely Roman lying on the pallet, but not the Roman I knew. There was one subtle but very defining difference – this one was human!

I stood over him and examined those features I knew so well. He was magnificent, much darker of skin than I was used to, and he throbbed with the life-blood within him. It pulsed, rich and vital through his veins, and I longed to taste it.

Horrified, I stepped back, appalled at the idea. This was Roman: he was my world, the reason the past few months had been bearable, so how could I even consider feeding from him? I was confused and scared, and I badly needed a mentor to help me through these urges and feelings that were so alien to me, so against the remains of my human emotions. That mentor was supposed to have been Roman.

Then the reality of my situation hit me: I wasn’t going to be protected by my vampire lover, I wasn’t going to be shown how to live as a vampire by him, and I certainly wasn’t going to be invited to share his resting place for the day. I was on my own.

I needed to hide from the sun, and soon, and I needed time to think, time to grieve.

I was reluctant to leave him here, yet I couldn’t take him with me: I had no idea where I was going and I couldn’t keep control of a human, even if it was one as beloved as Roman, whilst I was resting. Besides, Roman might be
my
beloved, but I was as sure as God made little green apples that I wasn’t
his
. I would terrify him.

Defeated and heartsick
, I left him asleep and untouched, and went in search of a hidey-hole. The cellars underneath the fort were extensive and well used, but the further into them I explored, the more dark corners I found. I chose one, as far from the entrance as I could, and hunkered down to wait out the day.

I was hungry (I think I always would be) but not unduly so
, I didn’t seem to be tired (did vampires
get
tired?), and there was no compulsion for me to rest like I did yesterday, though I could feel my body shutting down and resting, languid and sluggish, but my mind was awhirl.

Roman was human and I didn’t know how to handle that. I had been transported back nearly eighteen hundred years into the past. Was I going to have to stay here, in this time? If my connection to the past was Roman, and if everything that had happened to me in the last six months had been because of my tie to this particular vampire, why had I been catapulted back to a time when he was human? And if I did have to live through the best part of two millennia
, what would happen to me when I reached the date I should have been born on – because I would already exist?

My brain did rest, eventually. It was not sleep as I had known it as a human, more of a dozing state: I was aware, vaguely, of my environment, and came instantly
alert on the two occasions someone entered the cellars, but soon returned to that semi-comatose mode. Whilst my brain was in this semi-conscious state, I didn’t dream: there was nothing. It was as if my mind was an unlit candle, waiting for a flame to bring it to life.

There must be some purpose to this comatose state, I surmised, and not just a device to keep vampires from extreme boredom whilst they waited for the dark to return. It must be necessary on some fundamental level. I didn’t know what that was
, but when the first stirrings of nightfall twitched my body back to life, I knew what I had to do. My brain must have been busy processing information without my being aware of it because I knew my purpose.

I worked out the plan in
my mind, going over and over the logic of what I was about to do, until I was satisfied. But first I had to feed and I would need a great deal of blood for what I was about to do.

I was going to resurrect Roman.

Rising from the cellar like a daemon from the depths of hell, stealthy and full of dark purpose, I used my tried and tested method of slugging my victims over the head before drinking, picking on people who were already asleep and therefore would not be missed immediately. I slipped back over the wall and visited the small town, not wanting to risk the men of the garrison (they may be woken any minute for sentry duty), feeding from men and women alike, leaving behind a trail of sore skulls and raging headaches. I drank more than my fill in less than an hour.

I left Roman ‘til last.

I had no intention of doing the dirty deed here and now. I would have to leave this place immediately, and travel fast and far to escape the hue and cry that would undoubtedly be raised as soon as the clouts to the assorted heads wore off, and that was not necessarily going to be morning; some people may rouse well before then. I would take Roman with me, and that meant hitting him, too.

All the while I had been hunting
, I had been aware of the number of guards posted and the lessening of the shadows as more candles and oil lamps than normal were lit. They were guarding against me. There was a palpable scent of fear in the air and, once more, I picked out the word
succo
. The soldiers most likely didn’t believe that I would be so bold as to attack the fort, but they were taking no chances.

Roman took his turn on watch
shortly after midnight. He didn’t stand sentry duty, but visited each post and gave words of encouragement, checking on his men, keeping them motivated and awake during the wee small hours. All the soldiers stared over the walls to the land beyond, their attention outwards, never for one minute suspecting the danger they feared was already here. Although I hadn’t killed, I could understand their loathing and terror at what I was. I was an entity outside their comprehension, a symbol of evil and death, to be feared and shunned, and sorrow at what I had become and what I had lost pricked at the edge of my mind. My hunger was assuaged for now, and so the remnants of my humanity had free rein.